


You Can Take Me Anywhere

by NotAMuggleMiss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Centaurs, F/M, Goblins, Humor, Post-War Trauma, Trolls, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 06:31:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20484425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotAMuggleMiss/pseuds/NotAMuggleMiss
Summary: When Hermione Granger had accepted the position of Ministry of Magic Liaison to Magical Beings and Beasts, Draco Malfoy knew he would have to sacrifice some of his time to accompany her to the various networking and social events that went along with her new job.  In hindsight, he wasn’t sure he had really been adequately prepared for what was coming.





	You Can Take Me Anywhere

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [DramioneFanfictionForum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramioneFanfictionForum/pseuds/DramioneFanfictionForum) in the [2019SoundsLikeDramione](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/2019SoundsLikeDramione) collection. 

> Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, but are property of JKR And Warner Bros and no copyright infringement is intended.  
The prompt for my story was "And you're making me feel like I'm loved by somebody..." from I Don't Care by Ed Sheeran (feat. Justin Beiber).  
I would like to thank my beta, I_was_BOTWP, for making my writing better and endlessly encouraging me through my fits of self-doubt.
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
> "And you're making me feel like I'm loved by somebody..."  
I Don't Care - Ed Sheeran (feat. Justin Beiber)

When Hermione Granger had accepted the position of Ministry of Magic Liaison to Magical Beings and Beasts, Draco Malfoy knew he would have to sacrifice some of his time to accompany her to the various networking and social events that went along with her new job. Tonight, he was putting on the formal robes she had left out for him, as per her habit of leaving him something suitable to wear each time he was set to escort her somewhere new.

After a solid eighteen months as an established couple, the bad press had mostly run its course and the vast majority of Britain’s wizarding world seemed to have accepted that they were more than a passing item. Some reporters had even moved on to the inevitable speculation of what might be taking them so long to move on to the next step in their relationship. Draco took the gossip about what could possibly be taking him so long to pop the question in stride. 

He was surprisingly confident in their situation. Probably because they discussed this eventuality regularly like the mature adults they were (as long as nobody included the hyperventilating and panic that had accompanied the first time the topic had come to light). Their friends were pleasantly surprised at how functional they were as a couple, something they had both wondered if they should be offended about. But what really mattered, in the end, was that they were good together no matter what anyone else had to say about it. 

There was something comforting in the routine of a relationship that was no longer brand new. All the awkward firsts were in the past: the kisses, the “I love you”s, and the early fumbling stages of intimacy had given way to a shared flat and an ability to be themselves without the loss of the initial spark that brought them together. It was, Draco thought, comparable to a pair of favourite shoes that had been properly broken in, but hadn’t yet begun to morph into the unsightly, ratty pair you only wore to play Quidditch in the backyard on weekends.

Draco knew, then, that some of the events he would be pressed to attend would include mingling with Beasts, Beings, and Wizards alike. She had consulted him before taking the job, though he hadn’t expected her to. She had spouted some nonsense about giving him a say in the matter due to the commitment she knew it would require of him and her desire not to make him miserable by forcing him to attend parties he didn’t want to be at, which she knew he hated more than anything. He had encouraged her to take the position, believing it was a perfect fit for her. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time in his life he’d had to dress up and fake a smile or two. Besides, he was quite certain he could manage any event as long as he was there with Hermione. In hindsight, he wasn’t sure he had really been adequately prepared for what was coming.

* * *

The first time she had asked him to escort her, he had arrived home from his Saturday morning brunch with his mother to find what looked suspiciously like an animal skin laid out for him on their bed. The outfit looked like it could have been pulled directly from the film they had watched the previous weekend, George of the Jungle. Despite the initial alarm bells in his brain, Draco tried to keep an open mind.

“Hermione?” he called through the bathroom door, “Where exactly are we going today?”

He stumbled and hit the floor when she pulled open the door, which he had been leaning on, rather abruptly. Looking up, his mouth dropped open when he saw her dressed in a similar outfit, standing in front of their large mirror and braiding her hair over her shoulder.

“We’ve been invited to a Giant’s Mating Ceremony! I’ve been led to understand it’s their equivalent to a wedding ceremony. It ought to be interesting, don’t you think?” she replied without once looking up.

Draco blinked several times, trying to absorb the information.

“And you’re quite certain this is appropriate...formal wear for the occasion?” he asked uncertainly.

“I asked my contact for advice, of course, and even showed her what I had tailored and she was delighted by how thoughtful we were, wanting to fit in,” she quipped before glancing in his direction and frowning. “Whatever are you doing on the floor? You really should get ready if we’re to be on time.”

Draco sighed as he got up and shuffled toward the bed to change. He sincerely hoped there would be some kind of alcohol available at this wedding.

Four hours later, Hermione and Draco apparated back into their flat wide-eyed and exhausted.

“Some things cannot be unseen, Granger!” Draco shouted in alarm the moment they had landed.

“Well, it isn’t as if I knew ahead of time that they would actually be...mating in the centre of a circle of their peers! I’m sorry, Draco! I’d have given you a warning if I had one, honestly!”

No. He definitely hadn't been adequately prepared. At least the next time couldn’t possibly be worse.

* * *

The next event Hermione asked him to attend was at 8 pm on a Tuesday night. Draco had never been particularly superstitious, but he also never really liked Tuesdays, which had him walking into their room to get ready with a sense of foreboding. On the bed, he found plain black trousers and a black long-sleeved dress shirt, which eased his mind at first glance, until he noticed the black silk scarf that was clearly intended as a rather large neck-tie lying neatly near the collar and the wand holster he only used for duelling placed alongside the clothing. He dressed quickly and approached the bathroom, cautiously knocking.

“Hermione?”

“Oh! There you are,” she said as she glanced at him from her usual place in front of the mirror. “You’ll want to glamour your hair before we go, something a little less bright.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my hair, woman!” Draco gave her an annoyed look.

“You know I like your hair, dear, but it’s a matter of safety that we blend in tonight.”

“It’ll be hard to look inconspicuous when I look like a dandy in this blasted scarf,” he muttered. “Between that and the high-collared shirt my whole neck is covered.”

“Oh...well that’s also a matter of safety,” she replied mysteriously.

It was then that Draco took a moment to notice that Hermione was wearing a rather old-fashioned looking and mostly shapeless black dress. The collar went to her chin and every inch of her skin was covered from there down to her toes, her hands barely peeking out of her sleeves. Her hair was a large wild mass, concealing the shape of her lovely neck and shoulders. He thought for a moment she seemed to be working at making herself unappealing, not that it deterred him in the least. He pointed his wand at his head, silently changing his hair to a dark, dull brown.

“Where have we been invited this evening?” he asked, trying desperately to sound casual.

Hermione gave him a calculated look.

“The Vampire ‘Spring Fast’ Social, it’s held in the ballroom at the Ministry. Come, it won’t do to be late,” she answered matter of factly before grasping his arm and apparating them both with a pop to the Ministry lobby. Draco turned to her abruptly as they landed.

“We’re going to spend the evening in a room full of vampires?” he whispered loudly in alarm.

“Draco! Vampires are not as frightening as you may have been led to believe,” she lectured. “The vast majority are perfectly civilized and survive on synthetic blood, or use humane ways to collect animal blood. They are very friendly and not generally a threat to humans at all, you know.”

“Would you care to explain why we’ve gone through such a fuss to make ourselves look unappetizing, then? Since it seems our safety depends on it…” Draco hissed, looking around to make sure they were alone.

“Uh...It seems the vampires like to mark the coming of spring with a month-long fast. And we’ve been invited to the little get-together they have before...breaking their fast. So, they may be a bit hungry?” she offered with a guilty expression. “It would be best not to test their self-control at any rate.”

The noise of exasperation and incredulity that passed Draco’s lips did not sound quite human, even to his own ears. Hermione took his arm and began to lead him gently toward the ballroom. As they entered, every eye turned to them. Several guests near them appeared to sniff the air, staring at them as though they were a refreshing drink on a hot day.

“Why do I feel like they think I’m dinner?” Draco breathed to Hermione out the side of his mouth, attempting to keep his best smile plastered on.

“They generally have a meal about half-way through the party, or so I was told. Probably best we don’t stay long, right?” Hermione whispered back nervously before making a show of smiling warmly at her contact, who was approaching them rapidly from across the room.

“It’s lovely to see you Whilemina!” she said, too loudly and brightly.

“I may not have properly thought your invitation through, Hermione…” the vampire said nervously, looking extremely ill-at-ease and glancing around with a concerned expression.

“I guess we’ll be leaving early then, perhaps now? I’ll owl you later this week, yes? Have fun then! Goodnight!” Hermione threw out her thoughts rapid-fire as Whilemina nodded enthusiastically in response, and they backed out of the room rather quickly. 

As soon as they reached the lobby, Draco grabbed her and apparated them back home. Hermione whimpered as they landed.

“Remind me never to do THAT again,” Draco swallowed. “Firewhisky before bed?”

Hermione nodded. 

* * *

When the Werewolf Rights Act was passed in the Wizengamot, Draco got a memo from Hermione mid-afternoon on a Friday telling him they had been invited to a party that evening and to make sure he was home on time from work.

He had been expecting something given that the passing of the new law was a huge win for the Werewolf community, giving them access to the full rights wizards and witches took for granted. It also guaranteed their ability to acquire Wolfsbane Potion at a fair price, should they want it, and protected them from discrimination in the workplace. It was, therefore, no surprise that they would be celebrating. Nor was it very surprising that they had included Hermione in their joy, both in her role as liaison and because she had been one of their most outspoken advocates since the war.

When Draco arrived home shortly after 5 pm, he was surprised to see that nothing had been left out for him to wear. 

“Dearest?” he called out, “What’s the dress code for this evening’s festivities?”

“Something casual - I’ll be out in a moment,” Hermione called back through the door.

Draco quickly dressed in a decent pair of dark grey slacks and his favourite navy blue cashmere jumper. He was startled by a loud snort and a peal of girlish laughter from behind him and turned to see Hermione appraising his clothing choices with an amused look on her face.

“Have you got anything less expensive, love?” she asked him kindly, “I wouldn’t suggest wearing that unless you’re alright with never wearing it again.”

She was wearing a pair of figure-hugging jeans and a long-sleeved v-neck shirt in a fetching shade of blue. She had trainers on her feet. Clearly, they had differing definitions of casual.

“What, exactly, has you worried about the survival of my clothes? They _ are _ human and tonight isn’t a full moon. We’re not in any danger this time. Right?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and giggled again.

“Of course they’re human! It’s just that werewolf parties are known to be a bit...wild. We’re going to a bar - it’ll be more like a frat party than the society social you seem to be expecting,” Hermione explained with a teasing grin. 

“Dare I ask what a ‘frat party’ is, or would it be best if I was surprised later?” Draco asked with a bored drawl that aimed to hide his apprehension but failed miserably. He went to his closet and pulled out his only pair of jeans and a less expensive, less _ comfortable _, jumper. He started to change.

“A Fraternity is a club made up of male University students…” Hermione trailed off. She had one hand on her hip and her brow was furrowed in concentration, as though she wasn’t quite sure where to begin. “Never mind that comparison, it’ll take too long to explain. Just expect to drink to excess, and think firewhiskey, not champagne. And lots of dancing. Don’t expect to get to sleep early!” She laughed.

He barely had time to pull on his trainers and grab his wand before Hermione was apparating the both of them to a side-street off Diagon Alley he had not been down before and dragging him into a dirty looking bar.

“I’m beginning to think I should have canceled tomorrow’s brunch with Mother,” he muttered.

“Perhaps I should have mentioned that, oops!” Hermione answered and then laughed again as she picked up a couple of firewhiskey shots off the bartop. 

By the time she was shaking him awake the next morning, lecturing him about being on time for his mum, he had a terrible hangover and a vague recollection that they may have sent Harry a Patronus some time around sunrise asking him to apparate them both home safely. He also had a sinking feeling in his gut that the dream he had of dancing shirtless on a table was more than a dream. Hermione was pushing a potion vial into his hand.

“Take that, it’ll help. I’m going back to bed,” she mumbled and walked away down the hall toward their room. It was only then he realised he was lying on the floor and seemed to be using a throw rug as a blanket.

He shook his head and downed the potion, which didn’t help nearly as much as he had hoped it would. He found the rejected grey slacks and navy jumper from the previous evening laid over the back of the sofa and smiled.

Well, it had definitely gone much better than the fiasco with the vampires. He even had to admit it had been fun. Maybe things were looking up from here.

* * *

When Draco heard they had been invited to an event with the centaurs, his first instinct was definitely to be a little bit nervous. His encounters with them had not often been positive. Especially when he was younger, as his arrogance had led him to say more inadvisable things than he should have in front of such powerful beasts. Nonetheless, he was determined to find the positives in the situation.

He arrived home to find plain wizard robes laid out for him. They were made of heavy fabric, appeared to have warming charms woven into them, and were a serviceable shade of dark blue. That was a plus-one for the positives - wizarding robes likely meant they wouldn’t be doing anything too strange or out of the ordinary. It was a plus-two, really, if he counted that he would be comfortable as well. He dressed and was about to go looking for Hermione when she strolled into the room in matching robes.

“Those look nice on you,” she smiled at him. “Blue is very much your colour.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” he quipped. “Do the robes mean I've got a slim hope of a glass of champagne and some civilized conversation this evening?”

“I’m afraid not, love. We’re going to be attending a Ritual Stargazing Circle in the Forbidden Forest. It’s a bit like a coming of age ceremony. Centaurs who’ve recently come of age will be attending for the first time.” She glanced down at her watch. “We have to get going. It’s a short walk once we get there. Wear comfortable shoes.”

It was quite a bit more than a short walk, as Draco soon found out. He arrived trailing behind Hermione and quite out of breath after a 40-minute hike through the dark woods.

“Would you slow down, woman! There was really no need to be sprinting and we’ve been walking forever!” he cried out.

“Shh! This is meant to take place in silence. Look, we’re just in time,” she admonished him in a crisp whisper.

Centaurs of all ages were entering the clearing and placing themselves in a circle. Nobody seemed to be taking any notice of them at all until a young male motioned with his chin for them to join. Hermione stepped forward and Draco quickly followed. The centaurs were all tilting their heads toward the sky, staring intently at various groups of stars. 

After twenty uneventful minutes had passed without anyone moving or uttering a single word, he leaned rather conspicuously toward Hermione.

“Has it started? I thought you mentioned a ceremony?” he whispered.

Hermione gave him a rather pointed look and put her finger to her lips.

“Is anything else going to happen?” he tried again.

“They are stargazing, Draco, nothing more, nothing less,” she did little more than mouth at him. “Be. Quiet!”

Draco tried his best to stay focused and silent. He really did. But after standing still for what seemed like an hour and finding only another fifteen minutes had passed, he let out an impatient sigh.

“Hermione! I really don’t think we fit in at this little party,” he whispered loudly. “It’s a bit daft to be here when we aren’t seers, don’t you think?”

She looked over at him, an irritated scowl on her face, and once again put her finger to her lips to shush him.

“Nobody is paying us any mind, how long does this go on anyway?” he mumbled.

“Until the stars go out, just before dawn,” she answered quietly, glancing around and presumably seeing for herself that nobody had looked in their direction at all, regardless of the noise he was making.

Draco’s eyes must have gone comically wide upon learning he was expected to stand there until dawn because Hermione suddenly started to giggle when she caught sight of him. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but it didn’t seem to do much good. He grinned back at her, trying his best to hold in his own laughter at the absurdity of it all. Their eyes met, launching a fresh round of barely muffled mirth from both of them.

They managed to get through ten minutes more in relative silence by avoiding eye contact at all costs before Draco simply couldn’t help himself and brought his mouth close to her ear to whisper to her again.

“Should we be making up predictions about the future, the way we used to for Trelawney in Divination?” he said, a look of pure mischief on his face. “If so, I predict I’ll have all your clothing off sometime before sunrise.”

Draco had fully expected her to be outraged and shush him again, but he’d been bored and had decided to try his luck regardless. What he hadn’t expected was to see Hermione’s lip wobble like she was losing the battle with her self control. And he certainly hadn’t expected her to burst into giggles and hurriedly drag him away from the ritual circle, crashing through the undergrowth as quickly as they could to reach a reasonable distance from the event to apparate them home without disturbing everyone.

They landed on their bums, looked up at each other and laughed uncontrollably until they were both wheezing and clutching their stomachs.

“My goodness, I really hope I haven’t just ruined my chances at maintaining contact with the centaurs,” Hermione muttered, still breathless.

“I’m sure they must have...seen it coming,” Draco said with a smirk and that set them both off again. 

They were asleep long before sunrise, but as he lay dozing off with his arms wrapped around his witch, Draco found he was rather pleased with himself that his stargazing prediction had come true.

* * *

Looking back, the plain and functional day robes laid out for him on the Sunday afternoon of their most recent excursion into the bizarre world of beasts and beings had probably been the cause of his false sense of security and control. He hadn’t been particularly alarmed as they had walked hand in hand in the direction of Gringotts, nor when they entered the Wizarding Bank and went straight to a strange little counter off to the side which he had never noticed before. In fact, the first moment he thought he ought to be alarmed only occurred when Hermione had pleasantly informed the small Goblin behind the desk that they were there to attend Gilrad’s celebration of new life.

“Hermione? What exactly is a celebration of new life?” Draco chanced a whisper as they were being led down a cramped little hallway.

“Oh! Right. It’s a birthday party! Gilrad is my Goblin contact and he is having a party to celebrate his grandson’s first birthday,” she answered. “I meant to tell you earlier so you wouldn’t worry, sorry!”

“Alright then. And what is the little Birthday, uh, Goblin’s name?” he queried.

“Kevin.”

“Um, there’s a goblin child named Kevin? Really?” he asked with wide eyes.

“Well, yes. Gilrad was telling me about it. It seems even Goblins aren’t immune to the influence of wizarding culture. His daughter, Darag, he thought her love of all things human was a passing phase. He was a little put out when he realised he’d been wrong, actually,” she explained rapidly as they arrived at a cart sitting on a track which wound out of sight into the darkness.

They climbed into the cart with their goblin escort and were off. Draco had to hide his eyes in the shoulder of Hermione’s robes to avoid being sick from the dizzying ride and he nearly knocked her over when the cart came to an abrupt stop.

“Welcome to the Goblin Nation,” their guide told them. “The celebration is in the room to your left.”

“Thank you very much for your help,” Hermione said, pulling Draco gently from the cart and toward the large ornate bronze door to their left. She knocked on it once with the little mallet she found hanging beside it. A goblin let them inside, shutting the door behind them.

“I guess we aren’t leaving until they say so,” Draco muttered.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic! They’re very nice.” Hermione admonished him.

He looked around and saw dozens of goblins clustered about the room in groups. There was a lot of chatter - presumably in gobbledygook - he didn’t understand a word of it. Some guests smiled at them or waved at Hermione as they made their way through the room. There were bunches of balloons and streamers decorating the walls and ceilings in bright, primary colours, and a table off to the side was covered in a plastic tablecloth with images of unicorns on it. Small goblins were running around and laughing with plastic noisemakers. It reminded him of the birthday party Hermione had helped Andromeda organize for Teddy’s friends from his muggle primary school, but it felt absolutely strange surrounded by goblins, down below ground in the Goblin Nation.

“I can’t believe they’ve managed to get muggle music playing down here. I should ask how they got the radio working…” Hermione said, gawking at the large stereo on the side of the room.

“Quite something, I’m sure.” Draco nodded, distracted by their odd surroundings, but attempting to show interest for her sake. “Did we bring a gift?”

“There’s a galleon in my purse,” she answered nonchalantly, “And don’t look at me like that, it’s traditional. The only appropriate gift as far as I was told.” 

“I’m not sure this family is very traditional, but if you say so,” he grinned at her. “Shall we dance?”

“Are you feeling quite well? We can’t dance when nobody else is!” she said, a concerned expression on her face.

“They already think we’re strange, we might as well have some fun, come on!” he said, spinning her around in a circle and moving to the beat of the song.

She laughed and joined him. Before long, they were surrounded by cheerful goblin children, happily imitating them and being watched curiously by the adults and elders at the perimeter of the room. Hermione had relaxed and was teaching some of the older kids a dance move she said was called the ‘electric slide’. He couldn’t help but smile at the picture she made, smiling and laughing freely. 

Draco noticed a goblin in a bright pink dress carrying a baby around the room, pausing in front of each guest in turn as they spoke to the child and dropped a galleon in a pouch attached to her wrist. There was an older goblin with them as well, smiling and nodding at each interaction. Draco reluctantly interrupted the dance lessons - they had moved on to something called ‘the chicken’ that would require further explanation later, and pointed out the small group rapidly approaching. She apologized to the little ones, patting a few heads as she moved to join him.

“That’s Darag with Kevin. I’ve seen their pictures in Gilrad’s office. He’s the one following them,” Hermione explained.

“Thank you for coming!” gushed Darag, “You’ve absolutely made a success of our party.”

“It’s been a pleasure of course,” replied Hermione. She reached for the baby’s hand and looked him in the eye. “Happy birthday, little Kevin. May you be wealthy in goods and alliances!”

She slipped her Galleon into the pouch and Gilrad beamed at them. Just then, Kevin spied Draco and reached for him, smiling and gurgling. His mother went to hand him over.

“Oh no! I c…” he started before Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

“You can’t refuse to hold the birthday child!” she mouthed pointedly at him.

He reached out to take him and smiled awkwardly at him. Kevin looked pleased and giggled. As soon as he was settled into Draco’s arms, he burped up a large glob of foul-smelling blueish goo, which landed squarely on the front of his robes and started to smoke. Draco faked a smile and looked to Hermione for help, only to see her hiding her laughter behind her hand.

“That’s considered quite lucky, you know,” said Gilrad with a smile. Darag plucked her son from his arms and smiled with her teeth before continuing on to the next guests.

“I suppose it’s time for us to go,” said Hermione, “We’ve had enough excitement for today.”

They went to the door where a goblin let them out and led them to the cart they would take back to the surface.

When they arrived home, Draco shed his ruined robes. 

“That was actually fun,” he said, glancing up at her.

“It was, wasn’t it?” she smiled back at him.

* * *

Looking back now, Draco realised it had all been fun, or at least funny in hindsight, save perhaps the vampires. As he adjusted his tie and robes, he was surprised to conclude that he was looking forward to this evening’s adventure, whatever it may be. 

“Where is your job taking us today, dearest?” he asked with a smile, turning to face his girlfriend as she entered the room.

She was wearing a floor-length red gown, the diamond earrings he had given her for Yule, and a guilty and nervous expression. She sighed.

“We aren’t going out for my job tonight, Draco. Tonight is the Commemoration Ball,” she said almost apologetically.

He sat down abruptly on the edge of their bed, feeling the smile leave his face as fast as his carefree anticipation of their evening out. The Order of the Phoenix War Victory Commemoration Ball was the last place he had imagined escorting Hermione. He should have seen it coming, but in all the excitement of the past 6 months, the 10th anniversary of the war’s end had crept up on him silently. He hadn’t been back to Hogwarts since the battle. He’d spent years avoiding those members of their society who had the most left to hate him for. And now he was expected to face both on the arm of a war heroine.

“I see,” he said.

“I know I should have told you sooner, I should have asked you…,” she trailed off. “I was afraid to cause you any distress. I thought, since you’d handled all those events without having the time to think about them, that it might be best this way. I’m sorry.”

It was true. He had handled a great many unexpected situations with her since Christmas, but none of them had involved reminders of the war that had broken him, a war that had left him with pervasive anxiety in the aftermath. None of those situations had put him face to face with people who hadn’t completely accepted that he had changed.

Six months after the end of the war, crippled with anxiety that kept him housebound and sleep-deprived, he had been on the verge of falling apart. His mother had enrolled him in a recovery group, as they had been calling them back then, and sent him through the floo. That’s where he had met Hermione. They had put them in their own group, because their issues had been so much more severe than the others, they’d said. But anyone could have guessed it had been because the facilitators were concerned they would cause a distraction, simply by being who they were, and prevent the others from healing. He had been so angry at first, but Hermione had shown him nothing but compassion, even in the midst of her own struggles. 

He’d had nightmares and panic attacks over the littlest things. He’d trembled nearly all the time and had been afraid to leave his room. Post Traumatic Stress, she had called it. She had lived it too, both differently and the same. They had healed, over time, with the help of the muggle-born psychiatrist they’d been provided. And they had become friends. They had stayed friends, quietly, both shying away from the public eye until they were suddenly more than friends and knew they would have to acknowledge it to everyone else. Nobody understood his struggles better than she did.

Her friends still didn’t really accept him, though they tolerated him. 

“I don’t belong there,” he stated plainly, looking down at his shoes. “I don’t think I can do this.”

Hermione walked over to him and gently cupped his cheek in her palm, rubbing her thumb along his cheekbone in a soothing motion. She ran her other hand through his hair and slipped easily into his lap before wrapping her arms around him.

“We all belong in this post-war world, Draco,” she spoke. “You’re a good man and I’m not ashamed of you. I’ll be with you the whole time, I swear it.”

He took a deep breath and looked at the witch in his arms. She was an incredible person. She was successful, driven, and somehow still the kindest person he knew. And she was here with him. Even though he still struggled. Even when he felt worthless. Even when he thought the world was closing in on him. 

“How is it that you always know how to make me feel like I’m loved?” he whispered. 

“Practice?” she answered cheekily with a smirk.

He smiled and kissed her gently on her painted lips. She slid her arms up around his neck and kissed him back harder before pulling back and smiling at him.

“I suppose I should do this properly then. Draco, would you let me take you to the Commemoration Ball this evening?” she asked primly, standing up and offering him a hand.

“You can take me anywhere, Hermione,” he said, smiling at her.

“In that case, Whilemina did mention a group of vampires would like to take us out to lunch to make up for our disastrous appearance at the Social,” she said, obviously trying to look serious and failing miserably.

Draco shuddered.

“Do NOT even joke about that, cheeky witch!” he said as he stood and wrapped an arm around her. “And speaking of previous disasters, I’ve been meaning to ask you, is there really a dance called ‘the chicken’, or were you making that one up?”

Hermione burst out laughing and Draco thought it might be his favourite sound in the entire world. She made him better. She made everything better.


End file.
